


Worthless

by MissWonnykins



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Anime)
Genre: Apathy, Domestic Violence, Dominant Paul, M/M, Masochism, Mild Sexual Content, Neglect, Physical Abuse, Possible Character Death, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Destruction, Submissive Gary, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-16
Updated: 2013-09-16
Packaged: 2017-12-26 18:40:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/968978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissWonnykins/pseuds/MissWonnykins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He beats you. You enjoy it because it's what you deserve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worthless

**Author's Note:**

> Heavy, heavy themes of domestic violence and acceptance of said violence. It's something I've wanted to write for a while concerning these two, and I might do more of them in the future. At this time, I am debating a follow up chapter, so feel free to leave your opinions on what you might want to see (i.e. other character reactions, etc) in the comments. Enjoy~

 

\--

When you ever start to think about how bad it hurts or why it keeps happening to you, you remind yourself that you need it. You want the pain to remind you that you're still alive and kicking, that you haven't given up entirely. You want it to remind you that you probably deserve it, that you're no better then your agressor. Sure, you've never raised your hand to anybody, but you've done enough. It's not like anyone else can stand you.

People talk about you. They don't care if it's to your back or your face. They make snide comments when you ask questions: 'Oh, something Mr. Entitled DOESN'T know?' 'Typical rich kid, riding on somebody's fame' 'Go back home and ask your granddad, idiot'. They push you and prod at you, trying to instigate fights. They mock your battling techniques, even though you know they're solid. They do it to get a rise out of you, and you know that, too. You used to take their bait, biting back and trying to defend yourself. You don't, not anymore. Once they start talking, you put your head down and hope it stops soon. Sometimes they strike you, but not hard, not like Paul does. Not the way you need to be hit.

Deep down, you don't know if Paul truly understands why you take his abuse. He says he does, sometimes, but it's hard to gauge when he's lying. His voice is so cold and so serious all the time; he could tell you the Earth was flat and you'd seriously have to consider whether he was being truthful or not. You enjoy this, because when he calls you trash, you believe him. Sometimes you need to be reminded that you're a loser and that you probably don't even deserve to be out in public. When he tells you these things, it makes you stop pretending that maybe the world is an okay place and everything is fine.

It's never been fine.

If things were really, truly perfect with your life, the rest of Rowan's assistants wouldn't try to embarrass you so much. You wouldn't even be a researcher's apprentice at all, you'd be the Pokemon Master you always wanted to be. Your grandfather would be proud of you, he'd come cheer just for you and not for some other kid who grew up down the road. He'd love you and talk to you and notice if something was wrong, if you were hurting. Your one and only friend would maybe call you once in a while instead of waiting on you to send him a lousy post card. Maybe Paul wouldn't have to hit you.

He does, though. He has to slap you, punch you, kick you and choke you. He expresses distaste over having to do it so often. He does it over every little thing, every time you smile and try to act like your life is okay. You don't deserve to smile. You've done nothing important with your life. You're a failed-champion and a half-rate researcher to boot. You've been riding on your only relative's fame to get where you want. You gave up being rivals with your friend because you knew in the end he'd win, and your grandfather would be even more disappointed in you then he is now. You were a bully and a snob. You don't deserve anything but a good punch in the mouth, and luckily you have someone who's willing to give you that.

A little voice screams somewhere in your brain that this is wrong, that this isn't okay and you shouldn't be so accepting of his violence. It tells you that you're wrong, that people DO like you and you're just over-looking the obvious signs. That this complicated relationship isn't love and might even kill you. You wish that little voice would just shut up. It's the old you, the one who used to leave stupid little notes on signs for your rival and take pleasure in riding from place to place in a fancy car your grandfather bought for you just so that you'd believe he loved you. It's a much younger Gary who isn't old enough to understand that sometimes these things have to happen. You want to take that stupid, stuck-up brat and smother him in a pillow until he stops squirming. He doesn't know anything. He's too hopeful, too naiive. You push him away and muffle his screaming when Paul knocks you down and wraps his hands around your throat.

Paul loves you. If he didn't, he wouldn't do this for you. You have brief, idiotic moments where you imagine what being a 'normal' couple would be like. Once, you held his hand. When you both were alone afterward, he broke your fingers and knocked you out. You don't think you've ever kissed him. But that's okay, plenty of people don't kiss each other. It's not like you've earned that sort of treatment, anyway.

He did something odd, the other day. While he was pinning you down and biting your neck, he grabbed your crotch. It hurt, but you don't think he was doing it to hurt you. Eventually, you realized after it was over that he might move onto more sexual abuse. You probably deserve that, too. You were already worthless, it wouldn't matter much if he decided to ruin that part of your body, too. It wasn't like anyone else was ever going to love you enough to want to see those parts of you.

Today, he broke a glass over your head. He might kill you, you think, as you shakily crawl into a corner, trying to get away. But then again, as he grabs you by the hair and presses a piece of glass to your throat, you don't think anyone would care if he did.

\--

 


End file.
